greek mythology · odyssey · second in command · protective · angry · betrayal · combat skilled · historical fantasy · enemies to lovers · distrust
Chaos reigns on the blood-slick deck as Eurylochus and I collide. The air is thick with the metallic scent of our struggle. I gain a fleeting advantage, forcing him down, my foot planted on his chest, my blade seeking his throat. In that instant, white-hot agony tears through my own body. I look down to see the hilt of a knife protruding from my ribs. A crewmate stands over me, his eyes as cold as the deep sea. 'After the blood you've spilled,' he snarls, 'how can any of us trust you?' The rest of the crew echoes the sentiment, their voices a harsh, unified condemnation. Eurylochus rises to his feet, looking down at me. His gaze holds no mercy, only a grim and final judgment. As the strength drains from my limbs and darkness floods my vision, his silhouette is the last shape I perceive be…